


C to the R to the A-I-G, Sure Gonna Have to Be the One For Me--ow!

by edna_blackadder



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 08:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2806568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edna_blackadder/pseuds/edna_blackadder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Craig and Jean-Ralphio begin a relationship.  This does not bode well for their friends and acquaintances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	C to the R to the A-I-G, Sure Gonna Have to Be the One For Me--ow!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Doyle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doyle/gifts).



> Written for Yuletide 2014. My thanks to S for betaing, and my heartfelt apologies to the exclamation point, which to my knowledge has done nothing to deserve this abuse. It's okay, exclamation point. The question mark has agreed to give you comfort snuggles.

Horseback riding, Craig immediately learns, was a mistake. There's a reason he never worked for the Dressage Department! Now if only he could have remembered that back in the conference room, when visions of Jean-Ralphio's ass moving up and down in tight riding pants danced through his head, quickly becoming the only thing keeping him sane under all the pressure of opening Tom's Bistro early, as if the Unity Concert hadn't been stressful enough! And damn it, that sight is every bit as gorgeous as he imagined, but this horse is possessed by a spirit as evil as Li'l Sebastian is holy and pure, determined to make sure he won't be able to perform later on!

“That's it, Jean-Ralphio, I need a break!” Craig screams. “You may be a natural, but I'm going to be walking funny tomorrow and not in the way I'd like to be!” With that, he digs in his heels, but the horse takes its sweet time to cooperate and by the time he's managed to dismount he can barely even stand up! And there's Jean-Ralphio looking for all the world like he's not in any pain at all, and Craig cannot help wanting to scream from jealousy and want!

“What's the matter, hombre?” asks Jean-Ralphio, and how does his voice manage to be that douchey and that sexy at the same time? It should be illegal! “Not feeling the pony party?”

“I'm in agony! This is the worst I've felt since they canceled _Felicity_!”

“Well then,” says Jean-Ralphio, his expression at its most perfectly lascivious, “I guess we're gonna have to do it o-ral-ly!” And Craig will never get used to the way he feels compelled to sing every stupid thing that passes through his head, but if that isn't a turn-on, then _Scandal_ isn't the best thing to happen to TV since _Sex and the City_!

“I think you should leave,” says an angry voice, which can only belong to the young horse trainer, who as far as Craig can tell is as uptight as Marcia Langman and no better at training horses than she is at training Marshall! He's more than happy to leave, but he paid good money for this nightmare and he'll be damned if he departs without a full refund!

“You can come along with us, beautiful,” says Jean-Ralphio, and to Craig's horror, his words are directed towards the incompetent bimbo who is the direct cause of all their misery! “Everyone is welcome in the party zone!”

“Absolutely not!” Craig screeches. “I may be so attracted to you that baggy pajama pants would be uncomfortable, but I have rules, and I do not do three-ways! If we're going to be together, I have got to be your one and only!”

Jean-Ralphio holds up his hands, as if in surrender. “All right, all right. Monogamy. I can dig it.”

“Technically that's monandry. Monogamy would be if you had one woman, which you will not!”

“There are children here!” the horse trainer shrieks. “If the two of you don't leave now, I will be forced to call the police!”

Jean-Ralphio looks down at his ankle bracelets. “Uh-oh. Yeah, we best be skedaddling. Catch you later, gorgeous.”

Craig shakes his head and forces himself to ignore the raging pains in his thighs. Oh no, he did not, and it is so on! Now if only he could make himself stop thinking about what else those bracelets could be used for, if only that weren't a felony!

The plan was to go back to Craig's apartment, but as far as he's concerned, it's only five o'clock and the night is ruined. He had a candlelit dinner planned and everything, but now all he wants to do is take a steaming hot bubble bath and desperately try to convince his thighs not to keep punishing him tomorrow morning! So he drives angrily back towards Jean-Ralphio's father's house and hopes that his freak show of a sister won't be there to taunt them over this humiliating situation and then—

That is Jean-Ralphio's hand on his knee, sliding up his thigh just like in the movies and it's so hot and he's driving and there are a million ways they could die right now! “We still on for your place tonight?” Jean-Ralphio asks, and why is his voice so sultry?!

Craig slams on the brakes and does a donut in the middle of the street, because if this is going to be a slapstick romantic comedy, then they should go big or go home! Well, technically both, but does it really matter?! Then he remembers that he hasn't actually answered the question, so he turns to Jean-Ralphio and puts on his Petulant Face.

“I want an intimate massage,” says Craig, and Jean-Ralphio grins.

“Deal.”

*

“Have I mentioned that I love you?” asks Leslie Knope, gazing happily into the eyes of her amazing, wonderful, sexy elf-king husband.

“Several times in the last 30 seconds,” replies Ben Wyatt, but Leslie plows on as if she hasn't heard him, and he smiles, not even a little exasperated, because it's not like he'll ever get tired of hearing it.

“I love you,” Leslie continues. “I love you, and I love waffles, and I love you and waffles. This is the perfect celebration of the success of the Unity Concert and us getting to stay in Pawnee and the fact that we're having triplets, which means I actually have an excuse to eat my weight in waffles. Which I will shortly do.”

Ben reaches over to take Leslie's hand, but before he can tell her he loves her too, the unmistakable sound of Craig Middlebrooks rings out across JJ's Diner.

“What do you mean you don't serve mimosas?! This is the morning after the most incredible night of my life and we need to celebrate it properly! That means with champagne!”

“I'm sorry, but this is a family-friendly diner,” JJ replies. “We do not serve alcohol of any kind. Maybe in Eagleton—”

 _Oh no,_ Ben thinks, and he can tell Leslie is thinking it too. _Whatever you're about to say about Eagleton, please don't, not after the Unity Concert finally seemed to get people on our side—_

And JJ doesn't, because Craig's breakfasting partner interrupts him. “No worries, JJ. I'm still a little drunk. On lo-o-ove!”

For a moment, Ben simply stares at them. Then he turns back to Leslie. “Are you sure it's not too late to move to Chicago after all?”

*

Donna Meagle is quite certain that she and Tom Haverford have never needed Treat Yo Self more than they do this year. While it is Tom's own stupid fault that he is still friends with Jean-Ralphio, Donna can't deny that they need Craig, his passion, and his palate. She even likes him, if with the same sort of caution she applies to #BitchBoss and #BossBitch Leslie Knope, but now that he's dating Jean-Ralphio, she might have to revise that opinion.

Donna reminds herself that she did manage to tolerate Tom throughout his relationship with Mona Lisa Saperstein, but then again, Tom has things like Treat Yo Self in his good points column. Craig has yet to graduate beyond “fellow _Scandal_ fan.” If anyone needs a spa day, Craig does, but that will have to wait until another day, because Donna is not feeling so generous right now. Nor, she can tell, is Tom.

“I never thought I'd say this,” says Tom, “but you know what my favorite part of the spa is right now? The peace and quiet.”

“You mean the sweet, relaxing lack of 30-decibel TMI?” asks Donna, and Tom nods fervently, which is an amusing image when he is in the middle of an acupuncture procedure.

“Look, I love Jean-Ralphio like a brother, and Craig is, unfortunately, both the best and the most affordable sommelier in Pawnee, and if they want to get crazy, that's their business. But if I get woken up one more time to bust them out of jail for disorderly conduct at an indoor go kart racing facility, I'm filing two restraining orders.”

Donna shakes her head. “And by 'disorderly conduct,' I assume we mean of the X-rated variety?”

For a moment, Tom's mouth hangs open like a guppy fish. “I did not even think about that, and now I'm pretty sure I've gone blind in both eyes.”

“Upgrade to the full facial experience,” says Donna, in her temptress voice.

“I can't,” Tom replies. “The restaurant's doing well, but I'm still going to be in the red for at least a little while.”

Part of Donna is impressed by how far Tom has come, but a grearter part of her simply cannot have him displaying this type of reticence on the most wonderful day of the year. “Tom Haverford,” she says sternly. “Treat yo self.”

Tom looks tortured for a moment, an effect which the needles currently sticking out of his face only serve to multiply. “Okay,” he says after a moment, and Donna grins.

By the time they make it to the mall, Donna and Tom almost feel like their old selves again. Unfortunately, some of Eagleton's best stores have closed in the wake of the former town's bankruptcy, but enough of them are still open for the two of them to engage in some serious retail therapy. Which they are going to need more than ever, it seems, because Craig and Jean-Ralphio are standing in the middle of the food court, arguing furiously.

“I saw you!” Craig is screaming, and Donna would think he sounds truly heartbroken if _everything_ didn't make him sound like that. “I saw you flirting with Joan Callamezzo in the aisle at Binny's! I leave you alone for one second to pick out a fine Spanish red for our two-week anniversary and you cut my heart out with a spoon!”

“Uh-oh,” mutters Tom. “Trouble in paradise.”

“Come on, Craig-a-licious, that didn't mean nothing,” replies Jean-Ralphio in what he must think is a soothing voice, but Craig, as ever, will not be soothed.

“That's a double negative, you two-timing bastard! You're saying it meant something! How could you?! This is my sister's graduation all over again!”

Craig, to Donna's astonishment, appears to be actually crying. He may threaten to cry every hour on the half hour, but this is the first time Donna has ever seen him make good on it.

“Awwww, baby, that's no way to celebrate,” says Jean-Ralphio, in tones of pure sleaze. “Let me kiss away those tears.” And then Donna blinks, because yes, this is Jean-Ralphio and Craig and their trainwreck of a fling, so she knows that nothing should be able to surprise her, but that is Jean-Ralphio, licking Craig's face.

“Damn it, Jean-Ralphio Saperstein, you cannot always make everything better with your tongue!” Craig screams. “Okay, fine, maybe you can, all is forgiven and I love you and I want to do you right now!”

“That's what I like to hear,” Jean-Ralphio purrs, and then he kisses Craig, who kisses back and grabs Jean-Ralphio's ass, with no regard for the fact that they are surrounded by horrified shoppers, some of them families with children.

“I can't take this anymore,” says Tom, who looks sicker than Larry after a burrito. “Let's treat ourselves to a rain check.”

Donna hates to agree with him, but it's going to take a very hot, very long bubble bath for her to cleanse her mind of this. “All right,” she says. “Same time next week, and I will make sure that those two are engaged elsewhere.”

“You're the best,” Tom replies, and they walk towards the doors. As they leave, however, Leslie and Ben walk in, holding hands.

“Come on, honey, let's not look a gift horse in the mouth,” Ben is saying, but Leslie has her Petulant Face on. Compared to Craig's Petulant Face, though, it does not even begin to rate, and chills run down Donna's spine, because that is not something she should ever be able to think.

“I, too, am glad that Babies 'Я' Us has finally opened a branch in Pawnee,” Leslie grumbles. “But why couldn't they have done so in time to keep Ann and Chris here?”

“You know what?” says Tom, who in his charming way has not been listening to a word of their conversation and has no qualms whatsoever about interrupting it. “I never thought I'd say this, but I miss Batman crying.”

“Hello, Tom. Hello, Donna,” says Ben, flushing bright red. “I thought we agreed never to talk about that.”

“Talk about what?” asks Leslie eagerly, and Ben fidgets nervously.

“How the one time Donna and I made the mistake of inviting Ben along to Treat Yo Self, he bought a Batman costume and sobbed all over it about his breakup with you,” says Tom, blithely ignoring Ben's urgent shut-up-shut-up-shut-up gestures. Donna smiles.

“It was all very touching,” says Donna, and Leslie clearly seems to agree.

“So that's where you got that!” Leslie exclaims. “You said you bought it at a convention!” Then she lowers her voice and infuses it with a level of sultriness even Donna can admire. “Wear it for me.”

“Ugh, no!” screams Tom. “No, no, I did not just hear that!” With that, he runs out of mall.

“What's gotten into him?” asks Ben, and Donna sighs.

“Just listen,” she tells them. “Not that you're going to have any choice.”

“What are you monsters staring at?!” Craig's voice rings out, right on cue. “I am having an epic make-up with the love of my life! Have you no sense of privacy?!”

*

“Hi, Craig,” says Tom resignedly as his sommelier approaches.

“Do you mind?!” Craig screams in response, and Tom takes a deep breath and reminds himself, not for the first time, that Craig really is good at his job and would be both extremely difficult and extremely expensive to replace.

“Okay,” he asks, bracing himself, “what is it this time?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing at all except that my life is over!” Craig shouts, and then he disappears into the backroom, and Tom can only hang his head and pray to any and all gods that might possibly exist that Craig will manage to pull himself together before the lunch shift starts, and that his soundproof walls will hold.

Then the door opens, and two of the last people Tom wants to see come strolling in. Mona Lisa Saperstein bounces and meows for reasons known only to herself, and as Tom mentally kicks himself for having ever dated her, her father takes a seat at the bar. “I'll have a plate of rigatoni and to drink, a Joan,” says Dr. Saperstein. “Make that a double.”

Tom groans, and then it occurs to him that it's eleven in the morning, and Dr. Saperstein has always struck him as far too successful and scary a person to drink at eleven in the morning. “I love you, Daddy,” says Mona Lisa, and Tom can practically mouth the words “Money, please!” along with her as they shortly follow. “I'll have the most expensive thing on the menu, butt weiner,” she says to Tom, but at this point, he's so far past caring.

“Tough morning, Dr. Saperstein?” he asks her father, and Dr. Saperstein nods vigorously, and creepily, as only he can.

“I am this close to kicking my son out of the house for good,” he says, and Tom shudders.

“No way!” he screeches, without thinking. “You can't do that! The last time you kicked him out, he moved in with me!”

“I think you'll be safe this time,” Dr. Saperstein replies, “now that he's got a sugar daddy who doesn't know the meaning of inside voices.”

“I resent that!” Craig yells, and Tom quickly counts the number of other customers he has, knowing he'll have no choice but to comp their meals, which is not going to help him move his business into the black. “Dr. Saperstein, I wanted to say this to you before, but I couldn't think of the words because they never suggest themselves when you need them! Now, with the benefit of hindsight and a good cry I can tell you that I am in love with Jean-Ralphio, and I will keep your son in the style to which he has become accustomed if I have to work all night and day for the rest of my life, and I won't allow you to come between us any longer!”

“Whoa,” says Jean-Ralphio, having somehow managed to enter without Tom's noticing. “C to the R to the A-I-G, sure gonna have to be the one for me—ow!” As Tom winces at the failed rhyme, Jean-Ralphio sashays his way across the floor to Craig and kisses him, and the restaurant erupts with applause, and Tom breathes a heavy sigh of relief.

“Okay,” he says at last, and his best friend and his sommelier stop kissing to look at him. “As much as I hate to admit this, you guys are sort of adorable in that it's-like-a-car-wreck kind of way. That said, Craig, if you ever bring this to my restaurant again, you are so fired, and everything you just said about keeping Jean-Ralphio in the style to which he has become accustomed will not be true. Trust me when I say that your Parks and Rec salary will not even begin to cover that. Are we clear?”

“Clear as a bell!” Craig shouts, before turning back to Jean-Ralphio. He gives him one last quick kiss, and then yells, “All right, I have to do some work now, but it is only because I love you, and I will always love you!”

“Love you too, hombre,” Jean-Ralphio replies, and to Tom's shock, Craig smiles.

“If anyone needs me, I'll be walking on air, because that is the most wonderful news I have ever heard or will ever hear!”

“Great,” Tom mutters. “Congratulations. Now please do your job.”

“Fine!” Craig replies, and he stalks over to one of the occupied tables.

“And now,” says Tom, “I didn't want to have to do this, but you leave me no choice. Jean-Ralphio, you're my best friend, and Mona Lisa, I've mostly forgiven you for everything you've ever done, but you guys can't come in here. Ever. Again.”

“Awwww, Tommy, you can't do that,” says Jean-Ralphio, but without much feeling.

“Whatever,” says Mona Lisa, before throwing her drink in Tom's face.

The siblings' father, however, nods. “A wise business decision,” says Dr. Saperstein. “Allow me to reiterate my offer to invest.”

“I'm still mulling it over,” Tom replies, as diplomatically as he can. Privately, he thinks it would probably be wiser to hire Larry full time on a full salary than to let anyone surnamed Saperstein anywhere near Tom's Bistro, but as long as this Craig-and-Jean-Ralphio thing doesn't seem to be going away, he'll need all the allies he can get. “Give me until Monday to decide.”

“Deal.”


End file.
